by Jackie
King
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| Book One |
Writing a
book is an onerous undertaking. I’m astonished that a cowardly woman such as
myself, would even attempt such a thing. But the compulsion to express oneself
on paper is a sort of madness—an urge that can’t be ignored comfortably.
Ordinary chores such as dusting or tidying up your sock drawer, can be
postponed until infinity. Or as my mother might have said, until the cows come
home. And since I have no cows, there will be no interruption of that sort.
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| Book Two |
An
unfinished book, even one that yet has one word typed on a blank computer page,
refuses to be ignored. This primal urge, for some of us, is like a mother
hearing her child fussing in his crib, regardless of how high you turn up the
radio, Mom will still hear her baby. And likewise, a writer must come back to
finish that story.
At my age
I often think, this book may be my last. Followed by, “Please God, let me stay
healthy enough to finish this one.” And last week, when I sent the edited
galley proofs to the publisher, I sighed a momentary breath of relief.
THE
CORPSE AND THE GEEZER BRIGADE is now his problem. He will have to find the right
cover (and please God, don’t let him suffer from color blindness), and get the
thing ready to download and ready for the printers. (Book three--Cover as yet unavailable.)
Now I
can take a deep breath and relax for a while.
Wrong!
Another story began crying out from its crib. This is an old one resurrected
from years earlier, but now I know how to fix it. And that’s what I’m doing.
I’m not sure yet what title to use; I have three in mind:
THE EDGE
OF NOWHERE
GOOSE
OVER MY GRAVE
NIGHTWIND (The Original Working Title)
So far I
have one serious vote for The Edge of Nowhere. We’ll see. If you have a
preference, let me know.
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| The view just outside of Tumbleweed, OK--An imaginary town in the OK Panhandle |
The story
is set in a small, fictitious town in the Oklahoma Panhandle named, Tumbleweed.
Many of the inhabitants descended from pioneers who settled the land and built
fortunes when there was nothing in sight but sagebrush, prairie grass and
hardship.
In my
novel this question arises: Will a later generation be strong enough to
withstand a new kind of evil?
Suddenly
it’s my job to spin that tale. The story is in my heart—strong as the wind that
constantly whips across the plains. Now I must get busy.
4 comments:
Titles 1 and 3 for me, Jackie. Perhaps because I don't think we use the 'goose' walking over a grave here. We just say 'someone walked over my grave'. But isn't it great to have that compulsion to tell a story? We're lucky our genes worked out that way.
Bill, Lucky genes! What a nice thought, and a new one for me. But you're right. Story-tellers have a unique way of thinking. Years earlier I used to wonder why I didn't enjoy Tupperware parties and now I know. It was the gene-draw.
Thanks for your input on titles. It's good to have an opinion from Britain.
I agree with Bill on the titles, Jackie. Either one is great. I also share your fear of dying before I can finish a book, after all that work, what a shame to leave a story with no conclusion. : )
Thanks Jean, for stopping by. Your remarks always both interest and encourage me. Let's both rejoice that today we're on the right side of the ground and writing. Hugs, Jackie
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